


Feels like everything stopped turning

by Sh_Wat



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Cardiophilia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Needles and Injections, Romance, alternative 5x02, elements of it at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24046135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sh_Wat/pseuds/Sh_Wat
Summary: 5x02 Divergence.Poisoned Jim is brought at Oswald’s turf and his mercy. It’s not at all how Jim expected it to be.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Jim Gordon
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Feels like everything stopped turning

**Author's Note:**

> It's actually very soft story. Maybe romantic movies i watched recently are taking their toll :)  
> Also, almost magical healing, but it's not that strange for Gotham.  
> English is not my first language, sorry in advance for any mistakes!

When they brought him into the former city hall, Jim was so weak from the drug he was almost unconscious. Not that bad of a feeling, really. Absolved him of necessity to try and escape again, to try and hope that Harvey will bring the children to the station safely.

There was Oswald before him, staying upright, strong and sharp, but Jim couldn’t discern the expression on his face. Everything blurred out and waned. Oswald was moving fast, faster than situation required, and then Jim was dragged somewhere past him, up the stairs and into some room where there was so little oxygen….

So this would be his execution. Not even a colorful ceremony.

_Thank you for this, at least._

Jim didn’t have visions, like he half-expected. No light in the end of dark tunnel either. But his heart was pounding and his lungs felt like they were full of grainy sand every time he breathed in. Oswald was there too, looking at him from above, pale and furious. He took Jim’s hand, and Jim registered slow that he’s counting his pulse.

\- Stubborn and reckless to the end, or didn’t you hear I offered a bounty for your head? And they didn’t come up with a clever solution either, bring your head or you whole, they arrived with you _dying…_

And the moment Jim heard that he didn’t even felt guilty for not fighting harder.

Kill or die, Harvey told him, and now he’s paying for his decision. And yet he’s glad he didn’t aim for the head or heart when he shot Oswald. He had it coming, and the drug is handy, makes him so passive he wondered if he ever felt that. With Strange, maybe.

\- Breathe slower, - Jim heard Oswald saying. – Just breathe slower…

He was doing it already on his own accord. Numbness filled his muscles, and it was gratifying, blessing feeling. After a whole life running.

Oswald said his name, and it sounded quiet, and it sounded sad, and angry, and heavy. It would be only polite from Jim’s side to acknowledge their goodbye, but he felt so weak and losing the sense of place and time. Maybe he only imagined Oswald calling him?

He didn’t, Oswald was still above him and still raging. Because he didn’t get to deal the death blow? But it was almost the same as if he did, after all, he gave an order. And if he regretted his decision – he would be over it soon. He would be much happier without Jim, without insistent meddling with his power schemes.

All of city would. Maybe they will thank Oswald after this.

Jim wanted to thank him on behalf of the city himself, but he ended up saying something else, something completely different – ended his life as he lived it.

\- I hope mainland will listen to Harvey, – Jim said. – He’s more charismatic than I am.

Oswald slapped him after that, and Jim’s head turned, but Jim didn’t feel the burn of it, he only saw the movement of a hand.

_Now Jim was seeing visions, or maybe he finally got a taste of afterlife._

_It is night in the tropical forest. Everyone is asleep in their camp, but Oswald. He’s in uniform, again, like that other reverie Jim saw once, but he doesn’t look younger._

_\- Are you here to stay? – Oswald asked. He’s smiling, thoughtfully, as if he knew something Jim didn’t. Jim suspected any of his answers to this question would be wrong._

_\- I don’t think, - Jim answered. The night was deep and black and hungry, and he saw the lights behind the shapes of trees. – I don’t know._

_\- You never stay, - Oswald said. – But maybe you will come back again._

_Jim waited, but the night didn’t jump on him, didn’t drag him down to the new level._

_\- Why are you here? – Jim decided to ask him. – You’re not supposed to be here._

_\- Neither are you, and you never were, - Oswald answered, and it’s strangely hard to hear him, as if Jim heard him from under the water. – But I am where you are._

_Jim felt his heartbeat suddenly, and it stung, actually stung, as if with every beat little shocks went through his veins and back to his chest._

_Oswald laid a hand on his neck, right where the pulse point is._

_\- It’s not hell, - he said. – It only feels like it._

_For a moment Jim felt nothing at all but this touch, warm, comforting. But then the night was torn apart, and he felt like he’s falling again,_ _but this time there’s only dark around him. Hot, shivering, absolute dark._

Jim breathed in, loudly enough to startle himself, and opened his eyes.

///

\- Do you see me?

Voice sounded like Oswald’s, but Jim couldn’t turn his head to prove it, he felt so limp.

His eyes were sore too, and he thought that there’s too much light, or maybe it was just a ceiling that was too white.

His lungs still ached, but it was getting better with every breath. Oswald was in the line of his vision now, frowning, waving two fingers before his eyes. Jim huffed, and he saw that corners of Oswald’s mouth twitched. Oswald leaned close enough for Jim to see it.

\- Better now? – Oswald asked, and his voice was tired.

Jim shrugged. He discovered by slow touch that someone changed his clothes, he was in comfortable t-shirt and flannels under the duvet. And there was something on his left elbow – the bandage?

\- Am I supposed to be better? – he asked, feeling like himself for the first time in a while. – Is that something you would want to achieve now?

\- Maybe, at the long awaited end - Oswald said, looking at him with cold air now. – But it didn’t look like you suffered. And I think it would be a fair deal after what you left me with.

\- Maybe the worst it’s not over with, - Jim reasoned. He had no evidence on the contrary, anyway. But Oswald’s face didn’t betray that he knew this effect would happen, or that he was hoping it would.

\- Bullock is offering to talk Barbara into not attacking my men when they go for raids, if I’m to let you go, - Oswald said instead, matter-of-factly. – How do you think, you could stand?

It was sure worth a try, Jim decided, and tried to sit.

He almost lost conscious again. But the weakness was not so over compassing like before, and he kept clear thinking.

Oswald watched him intently. It’s not anger or contempt in his features, but it’s not something softer either; he looked confused, thrown off balance, and Jim saw how his left arm shifted, as if he wanted to support Jim but managed to squish this impulse. His jaw shifted and he turned his gaze off.

\- Will you let me at least to speak to greenzone? – Jim asked, laying back on the bed. It was comfortable bed, and Jim wondered briefly where did it come from, here, on the second floor, it surely wasn’t Oswald’s, his would be royal luxury.

Oswald tilted his head to the side and then nodded, walking towards the door to make necessary demands. There was no one but them in Jim’s room, and it was expected, after all Jim in his current state was no threat, but there was something else strange about the situation, something hidden in plain sight.

They brought the ratio but Oswald didn’t let them in. handed the apparatus himself and sat on the not-so-distant couch, clearly intending to listen to what Jim has to hear.

They picked up almost instantly.

\- It’s me, it’s Jim, - Jim said even before he could hear the first answering words.

\- Jim!! You’re alive! God damn it, best news I’ve ever heard over this thing.

Jim wanted nothing more than to stand and just go to the GCPD even alone and with no gun, or at the very least to ask what’s going n in greenzone, how’s Lucius, Bruce, Selina, kids they saved. But Oswald was nearby, and he didn’t really need Oswald to know how’s things there, and above all that, he owed him at least for not helping the drug to kill him yet.

\- Alive, but I’d rather make sure it stays that way for a day or two. Do you think it would be possible to talk Barbara into one safe raid for Penguin in this time? As a show of good will?

Harvey was not pleased, but he knew it no worse than Jim – they don’t have anything for treating him, they got too many on their plate already. And if he’s lucky and continue to be valuable, Oswald may even let him recover for a couple of days, and Jim swore he would take no longer than that, because he knew that Barbara won’t give in for free, and they had so little of resources already.

Harvey said they will be in touch and with Oswald’s nod Jim told they will be waiting for a contact.

\- See, it was easy, - Oswald said to him after he got the ratio out of the room. – But I knew it would take the injury to make you truly diplomatic.

His tone was almost light, almost joking.

\- It may be a surprise for you, but we don’t have a resources to be diplomatic, - Jim answered and regretted it the second he saw Oswald’s eyes going darker.

He was thinking about the drug he was hit with. What it could be and was there any possibility Oswald actually tried to treat him from his condition.

He didn’t know if it was safe – to bring this theme up. But he had to say something before Oswald left him, and it was not only about survival.

\- I’m sorry I was rash, - Jim said quickly, trying not to think too much about what he was saying. – I know that I owe you after all this. And I hope I will not burden you too long now.

Oswald sighed at that. He truly looked tired, worn out. But there was no stern tension in his shoulders now.

\- Just like I said, it takes an injury, - he uttered, but differently this time. Accepting the offering of peace. And there was this little sadness again, swiftly gone when Oswald turned away and closed the door behind him.

///

Jim had all the privacy in the world in his room. He was in no shape to explore it physically, but he got a good look and come to the conclusion that it was something like a secretary room before the bridges blew. Obviously the bed wasn’t always there, and maybe it even wasn’t there when Jim was brought initially. There was nothing in the room except bed and couch, and Jim decided he’s not that interested in wasting his energy on finding out what’s outside the window, but when he decided to walk –slowly and considerably – to the door, he found it locked. On his knocking the guard opened the door and asked without much enthusiasm what was it that Jim Gordon wanted. For an experiment, Jim asked to be lead into bathroom, and got his wish.

He finished all he needed to do and above it managed to wash his face and hands. In the mirror over the sink he inspected his face. Grey skin, paler than death, and the lips were oddly dark.

When Jim made it back to his room, he was tired already and even broke sweat. There was tray with tea and sandwich waiting for him. It was almost strange – that Oswald had tea, still enough to spare on his sick hostage. Maybe it was for his assistance in negotiations.

Jim ate, mostly to sate the nostalgic feeling. It was almost like the days before the catastrophe. He firmly told himself that he’s doing it to get well as soon as he can and there’s no point in hating himself for half-decent meal when in greenzone they weren’t having any.

Maybe he could talk to Oswald about supplies before he leaves.

Oswald visited him long after Jim handed the tray to the scowling guard. He brought the syringe and little bottle with something golden inside.

Jim let him do an injection, trying hard not to doubt his intentions. There was a bitter thought that Oswald might want to keep him ‘recovering’ longer to get himself a couple of another free raids, and provide Jim with something a little more sufficient in the department of suffering.

But Oswald didn’t move like the man who applies poison. He took Jim’s arm carefully, removed the bandage and chose the new place, disinfected the skin and injected the medicine. His touch was soft, almost reverent, and Jim felt flustered, since there was a long time he was being touched like this. It wasn’t surprising, that Oswald could do this and his movements were this precise – what was truly unexpected is that he would do it for Jim. Surely he could just send a medic, he must have someone here at payroll.

They were silent after Oswald got the needle away and changed bandage, and Jim saw that Oswald is no less thrown out by the happening – and no less confused by this, it was evident in the way he moved, a little stilled, as if he just became aware of an audience.

Jim started shivering soon after, but Oswald, sitting with the glass of vine on the couch, told him that it’s exactly what should happen.

\- Just try to sleep, - he added. Jim huffed – it could be easier, with how pliant his bones got, if only Oswald didn’t watch him so attentively. He tried to be discreet, to his credit, but he underestimate the focus Jim was able to keep now.

It wasn’t a new expression on Oswald’s face, not really, but Jim wasn’t sure he ever saw it for such a prolonged time. His face was softer in the half-light of evening, and his eyes, big, clear eyes traveled over Jim in the bed he ordered to make for him, and his face didn’t look peaceful or satisfied, but close to those feelings – with something unknown in-between, something that looked like caring. He seemed so transfixed he didn’t see that Jim watched him too, and was no less mesmerized – by his sharp cut features, his face both carnivorous and delicate, thoughtful, his tenacious fingers gripping the glass – fingers that could be so gentle.

Heat was traveling his body – little shocks in the veins. It felt cleansing, entirely different than that other time something was in his veins. Then it was excoriating. Now it was almost pleasant.

///

This time he didn’t remember his dreams, consisting mostly of short cuts and swift shadows. Jim woke up alone and went to the bathroom with guard again, feeling much stronger than night before. His head was almost not spinning and he was so hungry he even contemplated for a second asking for another sandwich, but restrained himself quickly.

He just finished breakfast when Oswald strolled in, elegantly dressed and spotting his a little too wide smile, smile reserved for business.

\- Better, I see, - he declared. – Should we call the greenzone and tell them you’re coming?

He was tense. Jim supposed something unpleasant must have happened in his turf, but since he was going to let Jim go, maybe it was better to use the chance.

\- You’re better informed - what drugs do I need now? I’m not asking for your medicine supply, but maybe something I could find instead of it?

Oswald pressed his lips, getting his seat on a couch, and then answered.

\- I’m not a doctor. It would be hard for me to say what you can take instead. You see, the drug they used on you – it was a mix, and the antidote they made custom too. I could give you their coordinates, but something tells me you don’t have a means to get them doing what you want.

It sounded more like thinking out loud than threat or taunt. By the end of the speech Oswald wasn’t looking at him. His demeanor was almost – ashamed.

Jim knew what’s going on – Oswald’s avoided the only important part of his speech, and normally Jim would expect his triumphant smile when the opponent catch up what was it that was wanted from him. But now it seemed like Oswald didn’t really wanted Jim to connect the dots, through was leading him there all the same.

\- You don’t know if I’m healthy now? – Jim tried. Maybe that was the source of his discomfort.

\- Of course! I’m telling you, I’m not a professional! – Oswald snapped, and got up, leaning on his good leg and wincing. Jim felt heavy guilt turning deep inside him.

\- Ask your medic, you must have one, - Jim offered, but Oswald waved his hand, aggravated, he was pacing the room now.

\- It’s not like he is blindly trusted.

\- You trusted him with your wound, - Jim said. He did it louder than wanted – because he didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to go there, and pushed himself for that. If he was brave enough to shoot, should be brave enough to own it.

Oswald stopped in his tracks. He was next to Jim’s bed now, and his face froze for a second. Then he sighed forcibly, averting his gaze.

\- Yes. But it only because this crook knows that I am the reason he has something to eat and somewhere to live. Who would protect him without my power? And you – none of them really sees it, Jim. None of them gets how valuable you are.

The last words were spoken almost soundlessly. Jim thought he misheard him for a minute. Yes, Harvey and Bruce would try to get him out and maybe agree on a couple of favors, but they couldn’t do much, and Jim’s value wasn’t that grand. And Oswald was standing next to him, looking down, his breath louder than before, smart, cunning Oswald who really believed he’s important. Who was ready to let Jim know that too.

Jim reached for his hand that very second when Oswald raised his gaze, and the change was so fast, his defiant expression changing to something almost open, cautious and joyful. He responded to Jim’s gesture, fingers firmly pressing to his, and they both opened their lips under a breath.

It was a precarious moment, and Jim opted to diffuse it for now. Maybe it’s just the final stage of his poisoning, maybe he’s not thinking right. He got his hand away and asked for a call to greenzone instead.

Oswald complied. He stayed during brief conversation too, when Jim said that he will be back the next day, and nothing changed on his mask of polite mild indifference.

Before he was going to leave, Jim tried to ask about books or something like it to occupy himself. It was only partly a joke.

Oswald looked at him from the door, smiling. It was a little naughty smile, but it was real.

\- Jim, I took the City Hall. Do you sincere hope someone here have read good books?

All day Jim is left on his own devices, and it’s harder now that he was feeling better. He made the bed, inspected the walls, looked out the window (it didn’t open). His home city was under the building – broken, tattered and torn, but still his home, and he would be back just a few hours later.

Jim was getting restless. He tried to get the guard to talking, but to no avail, but the confirmation that he’s not allowed to walk over the city hall even with convoy. Tried to listen what’s going on the outside of the door, but all he got was someone’s singing in choir. Oswald’s staff seemed to find themselves an entertainment in his absence.

Jim annoyed the guard enough to accompany him to bathroom and get him a bathrobe. The deciding argument was probably that Jim was going to leave, and goon wanted him out the sooner the better.

///

When Oswald came to visit him in the evening, he just raised a brow on his attire.

\- Too soon to be getting ready to leave, don’t you think? Wait for the morning at least.

Jim shrugged. He felt honest to god fine, the lightness in his head left him completely. To think about it, he felt more than fine. He felt relaxed. Fresh. Better that in months.

Maybe that improved Jim’s mood enough for him to start teasing.

\- I wouldn’t leave without your approval, Oswald.

Oswald huffed, shaking his head, but he was seemingly relaxed too.

\- Well then, let me check you.

It really was examination – careful, attentive, shy. Oswald’s face was so close to him, and in this situation of relatively safe connotations – trust over caring in a vulnerable state – Jim was looking at Oswald differently. With more appreciation – now his conscience didn’t rebel, after all, Oswald healed him, or at least ensured his healing.

While Oswald’s fingers traced Jim’s face, tilting it, and he tested the reaction to light Jim had, inspected his eyes, checked his temperature – Jim soaked in his closeness, his soft touches. The way his skin seemed to thin this up close, and not piercingly pale, no, warm easy blush was on his cheeks, his breath a little bit faster. Oswald was so alive and human this close, with all little imperfections of his skin, with the odor of his perfume warmed by his body heat.

When he took Jim’s pulse, he closed his eyes. And when Jim saw how his lips smile a little, how lost and secured he is in the rhythm of Jim’s pulse, it clicked for Jim completely.

\- You seem well enough, - Oswald said after all, letting go of Jim’s wrist slowly, as if trying to prolong the feeling of his heartbeat under fingertips.

\- You like it, don’t you? – Jim inquired, trying to be careful.

Oswald didn’t answer, just watched him and waited. Maybe he waited for a wrong word to be said so he could storm off, but it was not entirely a calculated decision. Oswald looked fragile, as if Jim pointed out the weakness he just started to probe.

\- To monitor my health, - Jim tried. – Powerful enough to show kindness.

Oswald turned away, huffing, smiling a little too wide.

\- Sounds pretty simple when you say it out loud.

\- … and you like to be kind to me, - Jim added then, not sure himself if he found the proper way to put it. It was something in Oswald that was there from the very beginning, and now is just an expression of always. When Oswald was nasty, he was gleeful too, because it was show of _power_ , and when he was kind to Jim in his mercy, in his forgiveness – it was sadness, almost hurt, but he did it again and again and again.

Line of Oswald’s mouth got harder, he for a moment looked like he wanted to stand and go away, and be as far from Jim Gordon as he would be able. But he sat still.

\- I’m sorry, - Jim added. He meant this conversation, but in truth, the deepest truth he was sorry for more.

The point wasn’t that Oswald was kind and resourceful enough to save him, or that he gave him much needed few days of rest. The point wasn’t that he forgave Jim for the bullet in his bad knee. The point wasn’t even that he forgave him Sofia, Tetch virus and Fish, Arkham and Galavan, or even old man Falcone in abandoned hospital ages ago.

It felt secure, to have Oswald in his life. But for Oswald it surely was anything but. And for this Jim was sorry in the only truthful sense.

\- Well, it’s not very flattering, though I’m not sure for winch one of us, - Oswald said meanwhile, his voice was small.

Jim had so little options left, just like usual, and the guilt mixed with gratitude and regret already, and he didn’t want it to take a concrete form and make him run away again. He wanted to give it to Oswald freely instead of apology or ransom – the former was empty, the latter he didn’t possess.

\- We’re not falling for flattery anymore, - Jim said, laying his hand bare before Oswald on the blanket, palm open.

He felt Oswald’s gaze the same as his touch a few beats later, from the tips of his fingers up and up over the vein to the very bandage he applied yesterday. He held Jim’s wrist higher and touched it with his lips, lightly, and then more full, and tingling filled Jim’s blood again, but this time the source was different.

He touched Oswald’s cheek with the hand he held, trying to be tender, attentive just like Oswald has been, and tilted forward so he could feel his breath on his lips, could feel them open even before their first touch.

It was surprisingly easy, that one contact they balanced over for five years. And it didn’t feel like falling or flying, it felt like being grounded. Jim brought Oswald closer, almost dragged him on the bed next to himself, and Oswald responded, gripped his side, shoulder.

\- Is the door locked? – Jim managed to ask him.

Oswald laughed out loud at that. He was panting already, his eyes were glowing, stellar.

\- I would be an idiot if it wasn’t.

Oswald turned him over and was over him, again, bright and brave, undecided and nervous. Jim raised his hand to Oswald’s face but he didn’t let him, dived down to breath into Jim’s neck. Jim was expecting a bite, maybe a rough kiss, but Oswald just grazed his pulse point again, and his lips stayed there, fluttering over his pulse.

\- I wish I could explain, - Oswald whispered. – I saw you dying before me, I saw my order fulfilling, - he inhaled deeply and leaned closer again. - It was horrid. I counted your pulse when they tried to revert this, and I felt it dissipating under my touch… - Jim held his head in hand s and kissed his temple, then into his dark, soft hair. - Then I felt it becoming strong again. I felt you staying alive.

Oswald just held him, firm, his breath was fast but quiet. Nothing he said Jim expected to hear, and he knew that Oswald knew this too.

\- You can feel more, - Jim said to him and kissed his hairline down to his temple till Oswald raised his face, blushing, smiling with that little shy smile, rare and fast on his lips. Jim kissed that smile and deeper, savored Oswald’s kiss. Then lead his hand to his throat and placed there, fingers on his cardinal vein.

\- Feel it, - he breathed out.

Oswald’s face sharpened, darkened, he took a shuddering breath in. Then shook his head, pulling his hand away.

\- No.

He rose to sit on the edge of Jim’s bed, disheveled, flushed. His brows were knit, lips pressed. Oswald looked – strained. Like it was life-saving – not to give in.

Jim wasn’t really surprised, figured he ought to be grateful even – they definitely weren’t ready for working something out amidst all chaos and horrors on the streets. But maybe Barbara was right and they were all just slowly dying, and with this thought it felt like the last wish unfulfilled, bitterness bled through acceptance.

Jim knew he had a high chance to not survive this, and his people too – much higher than Oswald. But it didn’t mean that he has to screw up this relationship completely just for the short lived high.

\- Alright then, - Jim said, and he was even satisfied with how calm his voice sounded despite being husky still. – I have just one thing to ask you about – and when he saw Oswald’s eyes on him, doubtful, unrest, he said with a little laugh, hoping against hope that he would make him feel a little better. – Tell me that my clothes are intact and you can bring it back tomorrow, I’m not ready to roam the streets in sweatpants…

Oswald laughed too, a little louder than Jim expected. He couldn’t say if it was relief or bottling up.

\- Yes, I mean of course, it will be here tomorrow, and you can invite Harvey to collect you when you want to, but you see, there’s this one complication you didn’t get. You think I stopped for my mental peace. And it’s only a half, and the second half is that you just has no idea what it would be for you if we’re to do it. Not because of your peers condemnation – they would take it since I’m useful for arms and such. For now. But I would drive you mad, Jim, completely mad, because if we just did it now, there would be so many strings attached you’d lost count. I wouldn’t let you take it back, never, I’m not that generous. Do you really want another hateful ex?

By the end of this unnerved soliloquy Oswald was pacing the room already. He was looking at everything but Jim, and Jim let him, till the very end, but then Oswald looked at him, like he did it always, and his eyes were wide, alight with so much feeling – irritation, regret, plea, order, tenderness, defiance were withwhirling there, changing constantly. He was right. But he looked so far from enjoying it, he looked at Jim like he wanted to be proven wrong, and at the same time like he was in one second from leaving the room. And then Jim got up and stood before him.

\- It was all reasonable, but – would you think about it? Not today… later? When everything will be less in shambles? If we manage to put together at least a few pieces of this city – will you think of it then?

Jim held Oswald’s hand, carefully, ready to let go if he wrenched it away. Oswald huffed again, shaking his head, letting Jim to intertwine his fingers. When he raised his head, his gaze was softer, brighter than before.

\- Still an optimist, aren’t you?

Jim dipped his head lower and Oswald sighed loudly, and caught his face in his hands and kissed him. And it was everything it was before and more, both new and already familiar, the way Oswald tasted him, deep, possessive, the way his spine just arched under Jim’s embrace, the way he breathed into the kiss, half-breaking it and resuming again. Even the way Oswald’s fingers slid under Jim’s jaw, holding him so light, never pressing but greedy feeling for his heartbeat all the same. Jim was never held like this, and he never wanted to stop.

Oswald let go first, but not completely.

\- Go back to bed and sleep, - he said into Jim’s ear, bringing him into closer embrace, strong, tight. – Please just do it, before we ruined our agreement.

\- Your wish is my command, - Jim answered in whisper, just to feel how Oswald shivered, just to see the wanting look in his eyes, that hungry glint. Oswald watched him for a second, then caught his eyes and huffed, embarrassed but not aggravated.

\- Good night, Jim Gordon, - he said, and he finally was calm, even amused, unbothered. His gait was not so pronounced when he got to the door and turned the handle.

Alone, Jim turned to the ceiling and just breathed for a few moments. He should have been experiencing first distant bites of guilt, should have remember how it ended for them before even without this final closeness. Should have been thinking about secrets and hurts and inevitable paybacks. Instead, he was thinking about the way Oswald’s embrace felt, so safe and secure, the way his voice sounded when he was free from his constant severe worries, the light in his eyes that was so ethereal. Maybe he would never become deserving of Oswald looking at him like that – but maybe with the city they will manage to repair something inside them both, something that important enough to finally mend them.

To let them both have what they wanted for so long – deep down, hopeless, fraught - and never could have before in the whole bright way they needed.

It was a plan grand and optimistic enough to make Jim look forward to waking up tomorrow.


End file.
